Daring, Nerve, and Chivalry
by HedwigBlack
Summary: ...sets Gryffindors apart. A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and freeverses about all our favorite Gryffindors. Written for the Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp Challenge. Chapter 9 is up. Charlie-centric
1. Product Testing With George Weasley

**A/N: This shall be a collection of drabbles, one-shots, and freeverses about various characters for the Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp Challenge. I may be combining with other challenges but each fic will definitely contain characters who are Gryffindors**

**This first one shall be used for the prompt: Blood**

**Other prompts- For the Favorite Era Boot Camp Challenge: Rubber**

**So without further ado, I present_ Product Testing with George Weasley_ :)**

* * *

Product Testing with George Weasley

Angelina eyed the sweet that George offered her suspiciously. She had learned long ago that one should never take anything from the twins without some degree of caution; especially of it was something edible. The two of them were brilliant, really, and deep down she knew that they would never do anything to intentionally hurt her, but a lot of their best work tended to happen 'accidentally on purpose'. She was not interested in being an experiment.

"Aw, come on, Angelina. Just help a bloke out and try this for me. It doesn't taste bad or anything."

"I'm sure it tastes fine," Angelina retorted. "But what does it _do?"_

George sighed dramatically. "How you know me."

Fred approached the two of them from the other side of the common room where he'd been having just as much success with Alicia Spinnet who also refused to try the sweet. He threw an arm around her shoulder and pleaded. "Please? For us?" The twins batted their eyelashes and looked up at her with identical puppy dog eyes.

She shook her head in exasperation and snatched the treat out of George's hand. "Fine," she conceded. "But not until you tell me what it does."

George looked at his brother. "Should we tell her?"

"I suppose we must."

"I don't like the idea. It might affect the results."

"What choice do we have?"

"All right!" George agreed. "It's a bit of Nosebleed Nougat. Just eat the orange part and you'll get a minor nosebleed. Nothing to worry about. No worse than a Bludger to the face would do. Then you should eat the purple piece to make the bleeding stop."

Angelina looked at them dumbfounded. "Why in the hell would I want to give myself a nosebleed?"

"To get out of class, of course!" Fred responded, as though the answer was obvious.

Angelina looked from one hopeful, freckled face to the other, then rolled her eyes and bit off the orange end of the Nosebleed Nougat. She barely managed to swallow the treat before a stream of blood came pouring out of her nose. She quickly put the purple half of the sweet in her mouth to stop the flow but it did nothing. In fact, the nosebleed got even worse.

Fred and George stood there, horrified and she glared at them with her hands on her hips.

"I… I guess we mixed up the recipe?" Fred said.

"I think so. I bet that was the batch we made last night. I never did get a chance to try one myself," George said.

Angelina looked as though she was about to yell at them, but then shrugged her shoulders in defeat and turned to go up to the Hospital wing. "I have no one to blame but myself," she muttered.

* * *

Angelina looked about the shop for Fred or George. She knew they had to be in the vicinity of Diagon Alley because George had told her to meet him at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She hoped he hadn't forgotten; her boyfriend could be quite forgetful sometimes.

She made her way through the crowded shop and spotted a girl wearing the bright magenta staff robes. She went over to her and asked if George was around. The young witch nodded curtly and stuck her thumb up towards the ceiling, indicating that he was upstairs.

Angelina smiled gratefully and went back outside and up the flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the building where Fred and George stayed. She knocked and waited patiently. Instead of being greeted by one of the twins, however, the door opened with a creak revealing a dark and empty kitchen. She entered cautiously and looked around.

"George?" she called.

The flat seemed completely empty and all the lights were off. There was no sound coming from any of the rooms within and she didn't want to intrude if no one was home.

"Fred?" she called again.

She walked through the kitchen and into the living room. The shades were drawn and everything was pitch black. She reached into her pocket and grasped her wand.  
"Lumos."

As soon as her wand was lit, she nearly dropped it in fright. She let out a shriek and took a few steps back until her back was pressed against the wall. Not even a foot away from her was a person. The identity of said person was indistinguishable as its head was missing. It wasn't until Angelina had stepped back, however, that it occurred to her that she was in Fred and George's apartment after all. She clenched her fists in anger.

"Weasley! Whatever you're doing, stop it!" she said through gritted teeth.

The headless body shook with laughter and then approached her and despite the fact that she now knew that it must be George, it was still a creepy sight. He bowed and upon rising back to an upright position, his head reappeared and top hat could be seen in his hand.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Headless hat," he said. "Want one?"

Angelina grinned and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "No, thanks."

* * *

Angelina walked into George's flat above the shop with the intention of looking for her wand. She knew that he'd had it when she came over, but realized down in the shop that it was no longer on her person. She thought carefully and attempted to retrace her steps. _She'd come upstairs to say hello to George before going to help out downstairs. Then she'd opened the door and set her bag and her wand on the kitchen table._ Her gaze rested on the table and was horrified to find that it was completely covered in wands. She went over and picked one up and it squeaked before turning into a rubber chicken.

"George!"

The red haired young man came to stand in the doorway and leaned against the wall.

"You called, Angel?" he said in a would-be innocent tone.

She shook the rubber chicken at him in frustration. "Please tell me my wand is not underneath this pile."

"It might be?" he said sheepishly.

Angelina threw her head back and groaned. "This is going to take forever! I'm supposed to be meeting Katie in twenty minutes!" She picked up one fake wand after another, and threw each one over her shoulder when she heard it squeak. "Your mum is right about these things, you know!"

"Mmhmm."

She continued to sort through the wands, hoping that she hadn't overlooked her own in her panic. She noticed that George was still standing in the doorway.

"Aren't you going to help me?" she asked.

George smiled at her, though she could tell he was trying very hard not to. It was quite infuriating. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Why are you being so mean?!" she asked and it occurred to him that she was about to go on a rant.

"Angel..."

"You could at least help me find my wand, you know!"

"Angel…"

"Oh, don't you 'Angel' me! I'm not being unreasonable here."

"ANGELINA!"

"WHAT!"

"Look at what you have in your hand." George looked meaningfully at the object she was holding. She looked down expecting to see a rubber chicken or at the very least her own wand. However, she was holding neither of those things. In the heat of the moment she had not realized that one of the fake wands had turned into a small velvet box. Her heart leapt into her throat as she considered the possibilities. She didn't open it, though.

"What the hell is this?" she asked quietly.

"New product," he said.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. He came to stand in front of her and stroked her cheek. "I'm kidding," he said gently before taking the box from her. "You deserve so much better than me. You are the best person I know. And I cannot understand why you put up with me, but you do and I love you for it, Angel. So please…" Angelina's jaw dropped in shock as George opened the little box revealing the ring she'd known (_or hoped_) would be inside it all along and knelt down before her. "… Marry me?"

Angelina felt tears welling up in spite of herself. "Of course," she choked out and wrapped her arms around his neck. George smiled smugly and pulled out her wand which he'd had in his back pocket the whole time and stuck it behind her ear. Success had never felt so good.


	2. The Last First Day

**Prompt: bittersweet**

* * *

_The Last First Day_

It's the last first day of term and it's supposed to be bittersweet and nostalgic. But it's not. It's just bitter and all wrong.

Seamus looks about him on the Hogwarts Express and joins Lavender and Parvati in their car as usual. Dean's empty seat catches all of their attention but none of them want to mention it. Lavender and Parvati partake in trivial chatter about Divination and how handsome Firenze is, but their voices betray that they can sense just as well as Seamus can, that all is not right.

The boy stares out the window, not saying much. He can't pretend to care about what the girls find interesting. Instead, he looks through the window trying to make out the passing scenery through the mist. He finally gets his first glimpse of the castle in the distance and it's strange to think that the last time he was there, he was attending a funeral. And as that thought occurs to him, he hears a piece of news that almost sends him into a rage.

"Snape is the new headmaster, now."

His gaze snaps to the compartment door from whence this information comes. Ginny Weasley stands there, her hands gripping the sides of the frame, and informing the three occupants of the gossip that has made its way down the train.

Seamus feels his face turn red, and then white, and he looks down at his hands, lamenting their uselessness.

xxXxx

He sits down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. A quick glance around the room tells him that the seat Dean normally occupies is not the only empty one. In fact, the only table that appears to be full and undisturbed is the Slytherin table. He tries to keep his gaze from turning to the staff table; it will only make him angry. But he doesn't have a choice. It's as though he's been Imperiused and he has to look no matter how badly he doesn't want to.

In the center of the long table sits the newly appointed Headmaster. He's sitting with his hands folded and staring his long, hooked nose down at everyone. His self satisfied smirk clearly says that he considers the title of Headmaster far superior to that coveted Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position. McGonagall sits next to him silent and stony-faced, and Seamus wonders how she can stand to be anywhere near him.

Seamus toys with his food and eavesdrops on the whispered conversations occurring around him. All anyone can talk about are the three empty seats that nobody can ignore. He's not surprised, but Hogwarts without Harry, Ron, and Hermione just isn't the same. He even misses the sound of Hermione's voice which he used to compare to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. But that was back when Dean was still here to agree with him.

Seamus looks down at his plate that he's barely touched. His food is cold and suddenly he's not hungry.

xxXxx

He sits at one end of the couch and stares into the fireplace. The Gryffindor common room is slowly starting to quiet down as students go up to bed. He's been avoiding it for hours because he can't bring himself to get up. Five more minutes, he thinks. He'll go upstairs in five more minutes.

Lavender gives him a knowing look as she gets up from the chair opposite him. He smiles halfheartedly up at her and she nods before heading for the stairs. It's a silent understanding that this is only the first day and they might as well get it over with. There's no sense in prolonging it in hopes that it will turn out to only be a dream.

He finally commits to getting up off the couch and drags his feet over to the staircase. He makes his way up to the dormitory and the door creaks as he opens it. Five four poster beds are there to greet him. Only one is occupied.

Neville is sitting on the end of his with an unopened Herbology book in his hand. He looks up as Seamus enters and smiles grimly.

"It's weird, isn't it?"

Seamus shakes his head. "No." In a fit of frustration, he goes over to where his trunk is sitting by his bed and kicks it hard. It doesn't tip over because that would be too satisfying. His toe is bruised, but he keeps going. He can break his foot for all he cares. Neville looks on, not saying a word. When Seamus is finished he sits down on the trunk which has barely moved and sniffs.

"Not weird," he says quietly. "Just wrong."


	3. The Monster Inside

Prompt: what if

Also for the Fanfiction Tournaments: October Round 1

The Monster Inside

Sirius always found it irritating that Molly would ever suppose that he was mistaking Harry for James. Of course, he knew that Harry wasn't James. He wasn't that thick. And the fact that they looked so alike never bothered him before. But that was before he walked into the room and saw Molly's boggart on the floor.

He walked in after Remus and looked down at the form of boggart-Harry lying dead on the ground while Molly sobbed uncontrollably. The messy, black hair, the thin frame and strong jaw, all reminded him of James and he wondered if this is what his friend had looked like that night in Godric's Hollow. He also wondered if everyone else left the room, whether the boggart would have to change much.

Fear was not an emotion Sirius could easily identify. Perhaps it was to do with the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Or perhaps, he'd had it beaten out of him as a child, which of course, was the exact opposite of what his father had intended. He'd had a lot of time to think about his deepest fear while in Azkaban. It was the kind of thing a person thought about in there. Sirius supposed it was just the effect that the Dementors had. The few precious moments he allowed himself to embrace his humanity had been filled with regrets and that nagging sense of fear. And what he'd come to realize was that there was nothing in the physical world that scared him.

What Sirius feared more than anything was not what could happen; the inevitable would occur no matter how inconvenient. It was what might have happened; the 'what ifs' that invaded his brain when he lay awake at night.

What if he hadn't convinced James to switch Secret Keepers?

What if he'd been there that night?

What if he'd given away that most precious secret anyway?

And what if the death of his best friend was his fault no matter what?

Sirius cleared his throat and shook his head as if to rid himself of these disturbing thoughts. He did his best to provide comforting words to Molly and she appeared to appreciate them more than she could say. But on the way out of the room, Remus gave him a knowing look and he made a show of fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes so as not to have to meet his eye. However, Remus lagged behind the group heading back downstairs and grabbed his arm. "Snap out of it, Padfoot." He pressed his forehead to his. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Sirius took a deep breath, and silently pleaded with his friend to understand. Because if anyone could relate, it would be Remus. "Why is your boggart the moon? What are you really afraid of, Moony?"

Sirius remembered asking Remus this the first time they'd encountered a boggart together back when they were in Hogwarts. It had been in a broom cupboard, and luckily Remus had already told his friends about his furry little problem. It still had seemed odd that his boggart was something as harmless as the moon. Remus' answer then was the same as it was now.

"The monster inside."

Sirius nodded and gripped Remus' shoulders as if to steady himself. "Me too."


	4. And He Loves You

**Prompt: Knight in Shining Armor**

**For the Shot Put event in the Hogwarts Games: Drabble about your OTP (Charlie/Katie)**

**Also for the OTP Boot Camp with the prompt: diligence**

_And He Loves You_

You're just fine on your own. You always have been. Because Katie Bell is no damsel in distress, thank you very much. You're a Gryffindor and you're tough and you don't need anybody.

At least, that's what you used to think.

But then you met Charlie Weasley. He may not be a knight in shining armor, but you'll gladly "settle" for a dragon tamer with an adrenaline addiction. He feels like home though you can't put your finger on why. He's warm and he smells like smoke and dragon hide and soap. And he knows exactly what you're thinking just by looking at you.

And he loves you for some reason. He loves you with a diligence that never ceases to amaze you.

And even though you probably shouldn't, that's what you love the most.


	5. Animals

Prompt: traitor

Also for the Fanfiction Tournament - October Round 3

_Animals_

Sirius pressed his back against the cool stone wall of his cell and hugged his knees. The atmosphere in Azkaban was especially tense and sleep was evading him. A moan from the next cell over told him, he wasn't alone in that respect.

He rested his forehead on his arms and breathed deeply, trying to calm the anxious feeling inside his chest and soon he fell into an uneasy sleep. And the memories came rushing back. Not his worst memories; the Dementors were far enough away. But that didn't make them any less painful.

xxXxx

_The full moon shone through the cracks of the boarded up windows revealing broken furniture and torn wallpaper. Several pieces of yellowed parchment were scattered around the room as a result of a writing desk being turned on its side. It looked as though the room had been caught in a whirlwind. Clearly, no one had lived in the house for years. And if anyone were to enter it, the only evidence that the building was not as abandoned as it was supposed to be were the paw and hoof prints that littered the dust-covered floor. But no one would dare try to go in the Shrieking Shack. Not if they heard the sounds coming from inside it now._

_Padfoot sat in the corner, straight and alert, unsure of what he should do. All he seemed able to do was watch his friend suffer as he writhed in the middle of the floor screaming for relief. Across the room, Prongs paced back and forth in front of the window as if attempting to shield the werewolf from the moon's rays. It was a nice gesture, Padfoot thought bitterly. But it wouldn't work._

_Wormtail squeaked from on top of a broken chair obviously disturbed by Moony's discomfort. A few times he scurried down to the floor only to climb back up the piece of furniture. He squeaked again, adding to the noise that the werewolf was making. It was about midnight. The worst would be over soon. But in the meantime, they all waited; three friends doing what they could for one who could do nothing for himself. And they had never felt so useless._

_Padfoot watched as in an attempt to find relief, Moony craned his neck and started to chew his tail. Tufts of wet hair fell to the floor as he whimpered and scratched at the floor. At the sight of blood, Padfoot couldn't take it anymore. He walked carefully over to his friend and nudged him with his nose. Moony didn't respond except to continue his self inflicted injury. The dog finally decided he had to use force and in an absurd act of stupidity, he grabbed the scruff of the werewolf's neck in his teeth and pulled him away before pinning him to the floor._

_Prongs reared onto his back legs and stomped in protest and Wormtail squeaked louder than ever. But Padfoot didn't pay any attention to them._

_He half-expected Moony to fight back. He waited for the wolf inside to take over and ravage him to pieces. But it didn't. An unspoken thank you passed between them before Moony slumped down onto the ground. Padfoot curled up against him and rested his head on his shoulder and watched as the moon sunk lower into the sky until it could no longer watch them through the window._

xxXxx

Sirius woke up with a start and looked about him in confusion. He attempted to locate the source of what had disturbed him, but he couldn't see anything except the strips of moonlight that came through the bars of his cell. And then he felt it; the bone-chilling breeze that came down the narrow hallway. He groaned and concentrated hard, until he was no longer Sirius, but Padfoot once more.

He curled up in the corner and waited for the faceless cloaked figures to pass by. He was able to bear their presence better in his Animagus form, however, the cold was agonizing and instead of his worst memories he was overwhelmed with an inexplicable sadness.

He expected the Dementors to glide by and the discomfort to lift after a moment, but instead, they chose to linger a few cells down. He whimpered and shifted in an attempt to retreat farther into the dark corner while the screams from the neighboring inmate resonated throughout the prison block. It was too much.

Padfoot did what seemed the natural thing to do. He reached around and took his matted tail in his teeth. He chewed it raw, unable to restrain himself and he began to realize what it must have been like to be Moony; what it was really like to be an animal. And he knew if his friend were here now, he'd know what to do. But he wasn't.

And even if he were, it wouldn't matter. Because it was all right to be an animal; it was nothing more than a furry little problem, after all.

But to be a traitor was unforgivable.


	6. Present Tense

Prompt: Daydream

For the Hogwarts Games- Men's Tennis

Also for the 100 Characters competition with the prompt: mirror

* * *

Present Tense

You are George, George Weasley. And you don't know how to be you.

You don't even know where to begin. Because whenever it's been just you, just George, your first thought has always been, "What would Fred do?"

It's always been the first and only solution because two heads are better than one, especially when they are identical, not to mention brilliant. And modest; don't forget modest. But your problem-solving skills are useless now because there is no Fred anymore. And you are no longer one half of the indefinable, irreplaceable, infamous entity that is Fred&George. And you are not Forge either, because what is a Forge without his Gred? You are just you. George Weasley. And you hate it.

You do your best to just live your life and readjust the way you think about everything. That's what everyone tells you to do because what else _can_ you do, really? So you try. You try really hard. And you feel as though, you're failing because life isn't fun anymore. Your mother can't look you in the eye, and the flat you used to share is too quiet, and the joke shop is as busy as ever but it's only a business now, nothing more. Your customers all give you that sympathetic grin that makes you want to punch a wall. Verity only has to say 'Mr. Weasley' once instead of twice, and you have to speak to her in complete sentences, and you think that is strange. How do people live like this?

You stay away from those sodding Patented Daydream Charms so you don't have to see his face; looking in the mirror is bad enough. When you do, you consider your reflection, and you know it's not the same. You look exhausted and lonely and too miserable to delve into the world of ear-related humor. And even if you could, _holey_ really is the only word to accurately describe you now. There's a hole in your head and you can get used to that. That's easy. But there's a hole in your heart that can't be filled, can't be compensated for and can't be seen. And if anyone were to ask you where it hurts, you couldn't tell them.

And you think if Fred were here, he would know. Because he knew you better than you know yourself. He _knew_. Past tense. You_ had_ a twin. You _used to_ have a brother. But now you don't. And living in present tense just seems so impossible without him.

But you'll try. You promise him you will. It had to happen sooner or later. And sooner came sooner than you wanted it to.

So you will try to be George. Just George.

And you hope that you will learn not to hate it.

And you hope that in time, it will get easier.

And you hope that Fred, wherever he is, is proud.


	7. Promise

Prompt: fireflies

_Promise_

It's just a few days until September first and the Creeveys don't know what to do with themselves. Colin has been packed for two weeks already, and Dennis hasn't taken off his school robes since he got them in Diagon Alley. They're slightly too big for him, but the nice lady at Madam Malkin's said she was confident he would grow into them. He's already told everyone who will listen that as soon as he learns some decent magic he's going to find a spell to make him taller. He asks his brother if there is such a spell, and Colin's response is that he's positive there is and he'll make it a point to ask Harry on the train.

Then the boys pester their parents about what time they plan on getting to Platform nine and three quarters. Their mother can't take the noise anymore, so she sends them outside to play without answering their question, but they don't mind too much.

Colin tells Dennis to wait by the house while he gets him a 'surprise' and for the next ten minutes or so, Dennis watches his brother wander around the yard waving his hands around in the air. He wonders what he thinks he's doing and if this is considered normal behavior at Hogwarts. In case it is, Dennis decides to take notes, watching the boy as he opens and closes his hands erratically. Every once in a while, Colin stops his movements to study his palms, frowns, wipes his hands on his jeans, and continues his activities.

When he's finished, Colin races across the yard over to where Dennis has come to sit on the bench by the back door. He waves a mason jar in his hand, before handing it to his brother and sitting next to him.

"I bet you can't catch more than I did."

Dennis peers into the jar and counts, loses count, and counts again. Twenty-six. The fireflies inside give off their faint glow that shines through the spaces between his fingers and he shakes his head because he knows he doesn't want them to stay in there. They don't belong in a jar. It seems too cruel.

"We should let them go," he says.

Colin just shrugs. "If you want to."

"Are there fireflies at Hogwarts?"

Colin nods. "You can see a lot of them by the greenhouses. But you have to be sneaky if you want to get out at that time of night."

"I can be sneaky," Dennis says and twists the top off the jar, freeing the insects and admiring the show as they light up on their way up into the sky.

"I know."

"But I'm brave too."

"I know."

"Colin?"

"Dennis?"

Dennis turns to his brother and looks up at him very seriously. "What if I'm not brave enough to be a Gryffindor like you?"

Colin reaches over and ruffles his hair. "You are. But if you're not, I'll be brave enough for the both of us."

"Promise?"

Colin nods and reaches out to catch a firefly lingering near his face. "Promise."


	8. Snow

Prompt: snowflakes

100 Characters Competition Prompt: snow

* * *

Katie stands in the middle of a practically deserted street, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and ears. She's been walking aimlessly in an attempt to ease her restless spirit and now that she's stopped, she realizes she's not entirely sure where she is. And for some reason, that doesn't bother her at all. Instead, she embraces the unfamiliarity and considers it a blessed relief.

She's shivering, but it's not from the cold. At least, not entirely. The ice running through her veins has another cause; it's one that can't be avoided or remedied and it makes her want to scream. But she knows from experience, it doesn't matter how loud she screams. The cold, the discomfort, the memories will remain.

She clenches her fists, as if that would relieve the uncomfortable tingling that has begun to spread through her hands. The pads of her fingers rub back and forth across the scars on her palms that are the only physical evidence that she's been in contact with something Dark.

It's always like this, but it seems worse during the first snow of the season.

She raises her face to the sky and watches the snowflakes float down. They begin to dust her shoulders and her hair and she tries to enjoy the way they melt as they make contact with her skin. The freezing, damp air burns her lungs on the inhale, choking her on the exhale.

It's not like it used to be when she was a child, she muses. It's not fun anymore.

It's just blinding, mind-numbing white like Hogsmeade in December and hospital rooms. And pain.

And while it doesn't exactly hurt _anymore_, Katie knows she's not okay. If she's honest with herself, she's not sure if she ever will be. But she shoves her hands in her pockets and hunches her shoulders against the cold and trudges on.

Because she has to.


	9. Facing Dragons

Prompt: scar

For the Hogwarts Games- Weasley Tennis

Favorite Character Boot Camp Prompt: Life

* * *

_Facing Dragons_

It is a common misconception that dragons can be tamed.

Charlie Weasley knows this from experience. Perhaps a little too much experience. And he has the scars to prove it, and he can tell you what silly mistake earned him every single one.

But the scars are a hazard that comes with the job. Not only that, but they symbolize important lessons that every good dragon "tamer" has to learn.

Lesson one is always the same for everyone. It is that dragons are beautiful, proud, and yes, completely _untamable_ creatures who can calculate the measure of a man simply by looking him dead in the eye. They are soul searchers and they will tear a person limb from limb if they deem him unworthy to walk the earth. And that should probably scare Charlie shitless, but it doesn't.

Or at least, it didn't.

But today is his first day back to work after three months of grieving and survivor's guilt that he's had to hide for the sake of being strong for his mum. And it occurs to him that he's had no one to be strong for him. He hasn't worked since May, but he's exhausted from having the weight of the Weasleys on his shoulders. And now, the years he's devoted to these creatures feel wasted because dragons may be beautiful, and they may be proud, but unlike family they have no sense of loyalty. And Charlie thinks that apparently, neither does he.

He should have come home more. He should have said 'I love you' more. He should have never encouraged the twins to be so reckless. He should have, could have, _would have_ if he'd known. But how could anyone have foreseen such an untimely demise?

He knows intellectually that he shouldn't feel guilty, and that it isn't his fault, and that nothing he could have done would have changed the fact that Fred is gone. He _knows_ this, but his heart feels things that contradict his brain, and they seem to have engaged in an epic battle of knowing versus believing. Honestly, at this point, he doesn't even care which one wins so long as they learn to agree, because he can't take the inner conflict anymore. It's going to drive him insane.

And all he is really sure of as he walks up the gravel path under the cloudy Romanian sky is that he has never felt so unworthy to walk the earth. He comes to face the front gate of the Dragon Reserve, and for the first time in his life he's not sure if he wants to go in.

He's not sure if he wants to face a dragon today.


End file.
